


Here For You

by CaledonRetreat



Series: Caledon Retreat Smut Collection [2]
Category: Guild Wars 2 (Video Game)
Genre: Anal Sex, First Time, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 07:32:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16035854
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaledonRetreat/pseuds/CaledonRetreat
Summary: Modremoth has been defeated but Logan is left unsatisfied, consumed with self-doubt and the worry that his legend is fading into obscurity. Luckily, warriors stick together, and a visit from an old rival may be just what he needs...





	Here For You

**Author's Note:**

> Heyo, Deacon again. This is a copy of a fic I wrote for a follower on my GW2 tumblr (Caledon Retreat, if you're interested). I'm still writing more on request, so check it out and drop me a line if you're so inclined :D If people take notice of this one I may upload some of my other Trahearne pairing requests... Ta! x
> 
>  **If you would like your own smutty fic written, please don't hesitate to contact me and we can discuss details** :D Peace and love x

The death of Mordremoth marked out a time of sadness across the sentient races of Tyria as loved ones and friends were mourned. The rise of the elder dragons had brought with them fear, but the mortal races found strength in their unity, a common foe to focus their efforts against. It was a bittersweet period, voids left in so many lives but an undeniable sense of relief. It was an age of heroes.

That word rolled off Logan’s tongue without grace. “Hero”. A word that seemed alien now, a word that other people used to celebrate his efforts against two elder dragons, but not one that he’d used for himself. He’d taken to the jungle with the Pact in hopes of making a real difference, of proving that he was worthy of his brother’s sword.

“And where did that get me?” he mumbled to himself bitterly. “Nowhere.” He had been shot down, rescued, captured, and rescued again as better people took the lead and carried the day. Champion of Queen Jenna, Commander of the Seraph, an afterthought in the annals of history.

A chill wind picked up and rushed through his chamber in the Seraph towers. He’d been drinking a little too much bourbon that night, but even so Logan shuddered and moved to close the window against the night air, only to find that there wasn’t even a breeze. The late summer air was pleasant and clean, bearing no trace of the foreboding crispness he had felt on his skin.

“Still sulking?” came a cocky growl from behind him. Years of training had burned combat in Logan’s muscle memory, and he swept a boot knife from a hidden spot behind his curtain and spun on the intruder. A hulking shape shadowed the doorway and an icy miasma tumbled from its form like heavy smoke. In his surprise, Logan didn’t react. The figure took a few steps closer. “And what is it you think you’re gonna do with that toothpick?”

“Rytlock?” said Logan cautiously after a long moment. The charr had strayed enough into the dim moonlight for him to make out familiar facial features, teeth revealed by a predatory grin and a snout scarred by combat.

“Took you long enough,” Rytlock smarmed.

“What in Tyria’s name are you doing here? How did you get in?”

“I’ve been wandering,” he replied softly. “You know that.” An awkward moment passed as the two looked at each other blankly. Logan set down his dagger.

“Well? I trust you have a reason for abusing these newfound… powers. What is it?” A strange whine emitted from Rytlock’s throat and he shifted slightly.

“I thought we would… talk.” Logan grimaced and scoffed slightly.

“Talk? Have the Mists scrambled your brain? What could we have to talk about?” snapped Logan. Rytlock growled.

“Give it a rest Thackery, you look like shit too,” the charr growled. “There’s not much conversation in the Mists and I thought that having another warrior to talk to might be good… for both of us.”

“By all the gods, you’re serious aren’t you? Well I can’t say I was expecting this tonight but I may as well take this chance to see such a grim bastard look awkward a little more.” Rytlock grunted and bit back a retort. He could see the half-empty bottle of copper-coloured liquor resting beside the fireplace and made allowances for Logan, something he would have never previously done.

He sat on Logan’s bed for lack of chairs with appropriate space for his tail to flow through, and for a while they made stilted small talk. As men of action, Logan rambled about the events of the Maguuma campaign that Rytlock wasn’t present for and the charr was content to listen, scooping up a very modest volume of bourbon with his tongue. He shifted his position on the bed and his heel bumped against something stowed beneath the bed.

At first Logan continued his endless report, but went stiff and silent as the wooden something rolled out from the shadows. He almost threw himself from the chair to snatch it before it met the firelight, but Rytlock was far less inebriated and far faster. He reached down and held the object up as Logan hit the ground. He turned it slowly and tried to gauge what he was looking at. At first he couldn’t see why the human had reacted so quickly, but after a few passes and a few tentative sniffs and he pieced it together.

“What’s this then, Thackery?” he asked slyly. Logan swiped up between Rytlock’s legs to grab the wooden object, but the charr held it above his head. “Got something to tell us?”

“Give it back!” snapped Logan. “You’ve got no right, you- you can’t-”

“Take it easy human, I’m not going to tell anyone.”

“You’re… you’re not?” asked Logan with a lilt of hope in his voice.

“No, but if you needed help with something like that… it’s been a while since I go to get my rocks off too…” They nervously met each other’s eyes and thrill of fearful anticipation went through them both. Logan sized him up from his awkward lump on the floor, trying to decipher if the awkward-looking charr was serious.

“By the Gods you’re actually serious aren’t you? … Would that even work?” Logan asked sceptically.

“This wouldn’t be the first time our two species have inter-bred,” Rytlock replied. Logan winced.

“Romantic,” he growled. Without further delay, Logan sat on his heels and began fiddling with the overlapping fabric swaddled around Rytlock’s legs. Rytlock whined in surprise and Logan shot him an accusatory look. “What, you’re gonna back out now? There, this is your… your ‘sheath’ right? Now we’ve got dirt on each other, you can’t say shit to anyone.”

“How is a pup like your clawing to get at my cock dirt against me, human?” Despite Rytlock’s posturing, a triumphant smirk from Logan said otherwise. He looked down to wear Logan had pulled his clothes apart, and the familiar form of his cock was excitedly emerging under Logan’s grip.

“It’s dirt because you’re getting hard for a human, getting hard for me in particular, and I can smell the soap that you washed your fur with before coming here.” Despite the shit talking, both of them knew that their hearts were beating in excitement. They had never considered this an option until tonight, and the sheer unexpectedness and taboo of an experience like this made it thrilling. They taunted each other as usual but Logan’s hands never stopped massaging and squeezing Rytlock’s emerging red shaft and the charr couldn’t help but emit a low, growling purr of pleasure.

Rytlock shifted out of his robes in full and Logan mostly followed suit, leaving his lower half in his night robe. He reached beneath the bed and retrieved a sticky bottle of thick oily lubricant. He poured some into his hand and massaged them together before returning to the now fully erect cock that bobbed in front of his face. Rytlock jumped a little at the re-established contact but Logan could tell from the shifting of his legs that he was enjoying it.

“Not something women do for you?” Logan asked, trying to sound confident despite the total embarrassment both of them were in. It wasn’t often you found yourself face-to-dick with a guy you usually hate, stroking him off like a clumsy virgin.

“The claws and pads make it awkward, it’s not- ugh- it’s not something normal in our mating. By the legion, those fingers.” Logan didn’t voice his satisfaction and went back to stroking. Rytlock was wide but his cock was stubby in human standards, a thick blood-red cylinder that was smooth to the touch.. Logan wondered if this was going to work the way it seemed to be heading. He pumped both of his hands along the modest length of Rytlock’s shaft, the oil making his firm grip slide along with little resistance. The small soft flesh spikes around the head of his cock bent easily under the pressure and it seemed they were as sensitive as the analogue of Logan’s body. Rytlock was panting and his hips fell into their instinctual rhythm. He dug his claws into the mattress and thrusted short quick jolts into Logan’s grip. His face was straining visibly and he looked in agony, but the mewling and growling in his throat said otherwise.

“Good?” asked Logan hoarsely. Rytlock’s figure sat tall above him and the display of controlled and aching primal instinct made him gawp a little, the red cock jabbing at him through his hands eagerly. It was almost a turn-on.

“Perfect,” replied Rytlock. “Stop it,” he gasped suddenly. Fearing he’d damaged the foreign physiology Logan let go of Rytlock and the charr went still. He leaned his head back and panted great heaving breaths. “That was close. I didn’t want this to be all about me. But I was thinking, with the teeth and the claws… You wanna try it or not?”

Logan caught on to what Rytlock was proposing. He wasn’t satisfied with jacking his rival off, obviously, but the charr was right; getting head with those teeth? A handjob from those huge clawed mittens? He could think of better things.

“Um, just sit yourself there.” He pointed to the centre of the bed. “And remember, we don’t say shit about this to anyone.” After such a heavenly experience with Logan’s handjob, Rytlock was compliant and malleable, nodding and following the order without remark. Logan pulled off the rest of his clothes and became aware of the arcane chill seeping from Rytlock’s clean-smelling fur. He took a moment to appreciate the effort the charr must have gone through to clean himself to human cultural standards and felt a pleasant flutter. But such vanilla thoughts quickly left as he sat himself across from the hulking carnivore, shifted himself down to his back and spread his legs. He wasn’t sure he was comfortable like this; Rytlock’s glassy feline eyes catching the light from the fire and the moon, a massive predator whom he’d spent most of his adult days hating, sat like a lover between his legs with his hard cock on show.

He swallowed the fear and shifted himself closer, directing Rytlock up and down and around the bed until he semi-comfortably had his hips in Rytlock’s lap. He was about to dive in before considering his current partner had more considerations than an inanimate lacquered piece of wood.

“Oh, do you want to use a, um, a covering?” he said. Rytlock seemed to be in some kind of come-down trance from the handjob and it took him a few seconds to respond.

“A what? You mean one of those cock bags? Charr aren’t so squeamish as pink-skins, Logan, I think I can handle a little ‘dirt’ if it comes to it. Or does that offend your high-class sensibilities?”

“Don’t ruin the mood!” Logan snapped. It caught both of them off-guard and Rytlock went quiet, both of them embarrassed again at the thought that they had a ‘mood’ going. With the blessing, Logan fumbled to grab Rytlock’s shaft and lifted his hips. It was only once the tapered tip was pressed against his tense hole did he realise how hot Rytlock’s cock was, it felt like a branding iron against the sensitive skin. But he’d been fooling around with his toy enough to know his limits, he should be able to take this, slowly.

He took a deep breath and pushed himself down. It took several hard prods and a steady hand, but Logan eventually relaxed his muscles enough to let the very tip of Rytlock’s cock inside him. After the initial shock of having something in his body wore off he grunted and complained of how hot it felt, but Rytlock didn’t have a snarky comment. That felt nice, it felt… non-judgemental. Logan suddenly felt a little more relaxed, like he didn’t have something to prove. Maybe he could actually just enjoy this.

Rytlock had never felt attraction to humans. There were individuals from every race who bore a keen interest for the anatomy of the other races, so experimentation was uncommon but not unheard of. It was never for him, though. Inter-species intercourse didn’t give rise to off-spring, so what was the point? To a warrior-charr like him, it was a fairly alien concept. But now he was looking down at Logan’s muscled and nude form, looking at a face most humans described as almost flawlessly beautiful, watching him wriggle and adjust himself so he could better sit on Rytlock’s lubed cock… he could see some appeal here.

The thick oil was made to withstand this sort of treatment for a time, and it took a few minutes for Logan to fit the whole of Rytlock’s tip inside himself. He winced and pressed himself further, but gasped and retreated every time.

“Don’t push yourself,” Rytlock said with authority. “We’re not here to prove anything, so what’s the point? Just… do what you want to do. Nothing else matters now, just make the most of it.” Logan looked at him for a few moments before nodding slightly. He laid his head back on the pillows and let out a deep breath. There was still lube on his hands from when he had pleasured the charr, and he used it to slather his own shaft. Rytlock stayed quiet and watched as Logan began to slowly raising and lower his hips, bucking and grinding on the small length of girthy cock inside him. The length seemed to be enough for him, as evidenced by the guttural grunt Logan gave when it hit the roof of his insides. With one hand his jacked his cock whilst the other roughly massaged the tip to an angry purple. It was an intense sensation that bordered painful, but Logan needed it to break through his clumsy tipsiness.

Rytlock wasn’t enjoying himself in a particularly sexual way. Yes, he was technically getting laid, but charr mating tended not to be so much for pleasure as practicality. You went deep and quick and you finished, that was it, so this slow grinding in a hole much tighter than what he was used to didn’t do all that much for him. The handjob was… another story, but this was fulfilling for him. He had gone weeks, months with no contact, nothing but a swirl of ice and magic. He had been no one to anyone for so long, not even the essence of an opponent to connect with. He had been the sole thinking entity in a sea he couldn’t comprehend. His motives for being here had been there all along, but only now did he really see them for what they were; he needed to be needed. He had been starved of sentient contact and he craved the attention, being required for a reason, having a purpose. Having sex with Logan would have never been on the cards in any other circumstance, but they had been pulled together. He benefited from having a use to Logan, and Logan benefited from having the honest attention of someone who had been through hardship, someone who would listen without expecting him to be a hero. Rytlock came out of his thoughts when Logan started to slump.

“Tired,” Logan panted from exertion. He fixed Rytlock with a meaningful stare and the charr nodded. Carefully, he took Logan’s muscular waist in his paws and lifted him slightly. Trying his best to emulate the slow and deliberate motions that Logan had achieved on his own, Rytlock shallowly dipped the tipped of his cock against the sensitive flesh in Logan’s hole. Grunts and sighs led him to the right place and Logan eventually relaxed into the charr’s rhythm. It almost felt good for Rytlock, sat in this awkwardly human position, barely moving himself and deriving next to no pleasure, but being able to watch his erstwhile adventuring partner get himself off. It seemed Logan had made significant progress on his own, and it wasn’t long before his strained sighs became grunts. His walls tensed around Rytlock’s cock and his fingers kept pumping and gliding along his smooth pale shaft, the abused and stimulated tip practically shaking as powerful shots of cum blasted against his palm. He gasped and kept his furious pace going as he rode his orgasm to painful heights and Rytlock took that as he cue to keep fucking and grinding his prostate.

When Logan’s body went limp, he dragged himself off of Rytlock’s lap with a small grunt of pain, all but collapsing onto his pillow again and wiping his sweating forehead with his arm.

“Shit, that took some effort,” he panted. “I’m going to pay for this tomorrow.” The ache was already settling into his muscles and the heightened pulse sent the remains of the alcohol rushing to his head. “Wait, you didn’t get to cum,” he said aloud. Rytlock realised he was being addressed.

“Eh, forget about it. Told you before, not here to prove anything.” He shifted off the bed and began dressing himself as Logan rolled to a jug beside his bed and chugged the water greedily. He offered it to Rytlock, who took a few grateful gulps.

“You’re not going to hold this against me, are you?” Logan asked once again with a small hint of worry in his voice. A rivalry stare from Rytlock showed a shared confidence and the Seraph calmed.

“You can just pay me back next time,” Rytlock mumbled without thinking.

“Next time?” Logan gasped. He waited for a moment and considered it. “Yeah… maybe next time.”


End file.
